First Loss
by heavenlyhuntress
Summary: Point Number One: Hinata never expected her first loss to be against Sasuke Uchiha. Point Number Two: But then again, she never expected her first love, either. ღSasuHina.ღ
1. Background

**Title: First Loss  
**_HeavenlyHuntress_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I've never lost in a game of arm-wrestling before. In all my thirteen scrawny years, I've always managed to look thin and pitiful and when the opponent gets cocky - then, WHAM! Take 'em out.

I've never lost before. Ever.

Which is why, on the first day of training, I ask Kiba-kun to arm-wrestle me. Just to, you know, test the waters of my fellow teammates.

He sets down his yipping dog beside him, and gets a gleam in his eyes.

"Are you sure? You look pretty weak!"

I manage to return the smile. "Try me."

In all of thirteen seconds his hand lies flat on the tree trunk.

"Ouch, Hinata," he complains. "You have a heck of a hard grip."

I just smile innocently back. It's fun letting people know the real you.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Kiba winds up letting the whole of Konoha know that I'm some secret arm-wrestling champion and under steroids. I suspect his ego may have been bruised.

As the day passes, I receive so many challenges that Kurenai, my teacher, forces them to a halt.

"Later," she tells them, her lipstick slightly smudged and face red, "Don't hassle Hinata now. It's her first day of training, you know."

Naruto looks both angry and pouty-faced. "But I want to challenge her!"

"Later."

Somehow Naruto gets past her. He strides up to me, excited. "Try me, for a change!" he boasts, rolling up an orange sleeve.

I smile shyly back at him; this time the smile is for real. Naruto. Determined Naruto. His infectious enthusiasm always makes people more happy.

"Okay," I say, placing my hand next to him. Goosebumps roll up my arm.

"Ready, set go!"

He won't back down. That's the first thing I notice, as his arm trembles and his veins protrude. He'll break his arm that way. Not that he seems to care at all.

Thirty seconds of struggling pass. Kiba and Shino and Akamaru crowd around the treetrunk. Even Kurenai stands there, trying not to look interested but failing.

I let him push down on me until my arm is halfway to the bottom. Then I place all my strength in that smooth motion, forcing his hand down.

His arm goes limp.

"Awww, Hinata!"

"Sorry," I apologize. "Good match, Naruto-kun."

He scowls maddeningly. "I'll beat you someday.

Inwardly I smile at his resolve. But no. He'll never beat me.

Because,

I've never lost before. Ever.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

_7:30 PM_

I let loose a loud sigh as I collect my kunais, all bent and twisted, from the ground. My stomach aches from hunger; my legs are cramped.

Kiba limps up, carrying his tiny dog. They're both fatigued. All his energy from before is gone.

"Rarww...I didn't know training would be so difficult!"

I voice my agreement, my tone pale and weak in comparison.

He reaches the Ichiraku's ramen stand. "Naruto, Shikamaru, Chouji and I are eating here. Wanna join us?"

I shake my head. Hiashi is expecting me. We exchange goodbyes, and I trudge up the road.

A few moments later a realization stops me dead in tracks. I search my pounch of weapons, then myself.

I'd forgotten my ninja headband.

The impact knocks my breath out. Where could it be? I'd been treasuring it since _forever_ - it's the only sign that I've become stronger.

I take several staggering steps in the direction of the training grounds, praying that it would still be there. If it wasn't...well, I wouldn't know what to do then. I really wouldn't.

The wind roars in my ears, making me all but deaf. The ground is hilly and rocky. I trip three times, each time bringing up a scrape or bruise.

_It can't get any worse than this._

As if on cue, the sky opens up and lets loose a flood of raindrops. My vision now impaired, I struggled onwards, berating myself.

A clearing rips open before me. _The training grounds_. But I can't become relieved now. I've got to -

I reach the tree trunk, a usually bright and airy place. Now the ground is damp and muddy. With my hands I claw on the ground, knowing I must have dropped it while training.

No use. The winds and rain are too powerful. Tears sting my eyes. Maybe tomorrow, I'd have a better chance. It's all I can do. I picture Naruto, in all his raw determination.

I can't be like him. My genes are too different. I decide to give up for today. I turn around, numb with shock.

Suddenly I feel a sharp tap in the back of my shoulder blades. I turn around, wondering if it was a figment of my imagination -

It's not.

Sasuke Uchiha stands there, holding something.

Lightning flashes, and I can see it's a badge. It's scraped and worn now, but I would recognize it anywhere - I'd scrawled a _Hinata Hyuuga _in the centre of the Konoha mark.

My heart thuds, sputters in disbelief, then stops.

His mouth opens, words come out. I can't hear him in the storm.

He motions forward, his dark hair swirling around him, and walks on without another word.

I follow him, confused, upset, and somehow even more battered.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

He leads me to a sheltered store, the only one that's open right now. The storekeeper eyes my drenched clothes with distate, until he notices the Uchiha symbol on Sasuke's back.

I grimace slightly as the storekeeper rushes to his aid.

"Anything I can do for you, Uchiha-sama?"

"No," Sasuke motion curtly. "You can leave us." The man dips his head respectfully, and scurries away.

Up until now, I'd never spoken to him before. We were too different - me, the quiet strange girl - him, Mr. Silent and Mysterious. Neji had challenged him a few times, but I'd never exchanged a word with the Uchiha heir.

He peels off his sodden rain jacket and boots. My headband is still in his tight grasp.

Finally he faces me, his dark eyes inscrutable. He opens his mouth. This time, I hear him.

"I'll give this to you on one condition," he says, his voice low with a hint of arrogance, "and that is: if you can beat me at arm-wrestling."

My mouth opens. Words do not come out.

Instead, I push my soaked sleeve up, a sure sign of accepting the challenge.

I've never lost at arm-wrestling before. Ever.

* * *

**It's Black Friday! Wooh! Cheers!**

**Review review, please!**


	2. Condition

**Title:**

_Condition_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I shake, still feeling the wind biting through my fingers. I force myself into a sitting position, set my arm down onto the glass table.

He sits as if he has trouble doing so - his posture is stiff, stern, even. He frowns and places his fingers to mine.

I jerk back as if his fingers has jolts of electricity. I don't know if it's a trauma reaction or just astonishment at how cold his grip is, but whatever the reason, I'm suddenly three feet away, my chair pushed far away from him.

"I'm - sorry," I manage, the words coming out jerkily. I take his hand again, avoiding his expression.

Something about him is ominous, almost, forecasting dark weather.

"I'll begin on the count of three," he directs, his voice sounding hollow to my ears.

"One."

"Two."

I shiver on his count of three.

And then a terrible pain shoots up my radius, and my muscles clench tightly, cramping. There's fire in his eyes, a slash of eyebrows, gritted teeth. His hair falls down fluidly between his eyes.

I bite my tongue and it bleeds automatically. I taste metal.

Nothing has happened so far, it appears. Our hands are interlocked in the middle - fused, almost -

He squeezes so tightly I'm afraid my bones will break.

He refuses to give up. He's unlike anyone else. He won't _budge._

Tears start in my eyes. How can I explain to him - that it hurts, that I've never experienced so much pain? My hand feels like a dead wing, wrung and wrinkled and limp.

I've never said his name aloud before.

The word feels strange on my tongue. "Sasuke - "

This isn't a test of strength, I want to scream. It's not crushing your opponent's will. It's about determination! It's about not backing down -

Our eyes meet for a brief second.

Everything is lost. I don't know what it is, it's like yin and yang, black and white, horizontal and vertical, vertical, vertical...

I can't move.

And in that instant, my arm falls to the table.

I jerk back my hand from his, the tears falling freely now. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to be near him.

"Good job," I almost spit out. The headband is insignificant. I rush out the door.

Rain falls harder.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I can't describe it. It's like coming out of the cold, seeing a marvelous lighted cottage ahead. Stumble to the door and knock. The door opens. And it's like getting the door slammed into your face.

Losing is insignificant, even. The pride that I'd aligned to never being beaten before is foolish.

I'd just experienced something far, far more expansive.

Hate. Revulsion. Enmity. I'd felt all of these things in a flash.

What is it, I wonder, flinging off the sodden rain coat, that's in his gaze? Everything about it repels me.

How can he bear to be so cold, so unmoving? The way his fingers lack warmth, the way he unmercifully does whatever is in his power to crush the good things in his opponent.

I want to shrink away from him. I want to scream and twist the truth, but reality is reality.

I can't be on the same planet as him, even. He is a creature altogether different from being human.

I tremble, drawing the covers closer to my face.

It's just a one time thing, I tell myself. I'll avoid him at all costs from this day onward. I won't even acknowledge his presence.

That was the first day of meeting Sasuke Uchiha.

It wasn't the last.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

_one month later_

Kiba scowls angrily. "That's not fair! I thought we had a mission today!"

"It's canceled," stipulates Kurenai, but there's something like sympathy in her eyes. "Training is finished. The rest of the day is free."

Kiba's response is a kick to a tree. "This isn't what is was supposed to be!"

I agree. We've had nothing to do in the past three days but part time training. It's living a shadow of a ninja. There's no meaning.

I lug the knapsack of weapons onto my back, departing after exchanged farewells.

My mind is heavy, my thoughts worrisome.

I've been categorized as the shy girl again. My thirst for arm-wrestling has diminished, even disappeared entirely. Something defeated its purpose. Competition wasn't appealing to me anymore.

I make my way through the crowd, glimpsing the blinding sunlight reflecting off of headbands.

I wince, and look down. Mine is gone. I had to accept it.

And then I bump into someone. "Sorry - " I don't bother to look up.

"Watch where you're going."

I glance upwards - but it's a mistake.

It's him.

I freeze, deer caught in headlights.

"I haven't seen you around," he says slowly, his dark eyes taking in my expression. Not taking in - more like _judging_, inwardly smirking, _anticipating_ my next move.

I can't move.

"I still have your headband," he continues, his chin set.

He's a whole head taller than me. He's intimidating. Words fail to surface.

He pauses, and I choose this moment to push through the crowd. I have a feeling, an instinct - get away fast.

Too late.

His hand wraps around my wrist.

I turn around and snatch my wrist away. His eyes widen imperceptibly.

And I speak, voicing something, anything -

"I don't know what's wrong with you!" I burst out. He doesn't move. Can't he see I'm upset, confused? "I - you - just leave me alone!"

I can't stand him.

And then, suddenly, like a dam bursting - "Talk, you jerk!"

I don't know why. Tears come to my eyes. I can't talk to him.

I cast my gaze away and run through the crowd. But not before I see a hint of a smirk on his lips.

* * *

**It's called love at first sight, Hinata.**

**Duh :)**

**Review please! I'll try to update as fast as I can.**


	3. Bitterness

**Title:**

_Bitterness_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I understand how you can be so, you  
And perform before your audience in such a way as you do

_But oh how I **loathe** you  
How I simply **detest** your being  
Your disdain for things I love_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I fly home, my hair streamed back, the pant legs flapping around my ankles. I'm filled to bursting, ready to explode and blow away with shock and a healthy dose of fury.

He stole my headband.

I fume, a feeling that's been absent from me so long I don't recognize it.

He talked to me. He...

He _annoyed _me.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

My eyes snap open the next day, infused with images of _him_. In my dreams he seems to haunt me with that rare, mocking smile. My fingers travel to reach out and touch him, and then I fall...

I jerk out of bed, plunge my limbs into my training outfit. I'm raring to go. I'm raring to kick some butt -

I pound down the stairs just so my presence is known. The Hyuuga household emphasizes _calmness_ and _peacefulness_. This isn't going to go well with Hiashi.

He spots me instantaneously. "_What _are you doing, Hinata?"

I am in no mood to sidestep him to reach the kitchen - I am not hungry, I don't want a lecture. Instead I wrap my fingers around the doorknob and twist.

"D-dad, I'll be back after training. Bye!"

Before the door closes I see his stunned visage. I haven't called him "Dad" in just about seven years. "Father" is the proper term.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

"Hinata, that's not the _right posture_. Your foot is supposed to be placed - like this - "

Kiba demonstrates the third time that day, a scowl evident on his features.

"Oh, so it's like...um - " I giggle feebly as I fall to the ground.

He places his hands on his hips. I swear it's all due to his matriarch family, the way he looks like a woman whenever he does that.

I laugh.

He scowls hugely.

I tell him what I think of him.

His eyes grow enormous, and his mouth flaps open.

"You - Hinata, you ! - "

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Night is when I feel at my most vulnerable. Night is when the dark creatures come out, I imagined as a child, night was that demon in your secret heart -

I walk home alone after practice, the dusk settling like a fine curtain.

There is a tap on my shoulder and I all but jump a mile into the air.

It takes me twenty full seconds to recollect the blood that has drained away. It takes another five to turn around.

The youth flips me his most charming smile.

I glare at Sasuke, a fist clutched tight over my palpitating heart. I want to convey my emotions - that I'm really a nice person inside - I've never murdered anyone or committed adultery or raped anyone or even put out an insult - but he - he was _pushing it_ -

I want to tell him to knock it off, or at least to stop lingering afterwards like smoke in a wildfire.

But what I say instead is,

"Y-you scared me!"

His eyes are still that pitch-black, that black that you know is there but can't prove it. The darkness that makes everything seem magnified.

"I did?" His smile is condescending.

"Y-yes, you _did_," I break off weakly. My gaze can't stay on his for more than two seconds.

He doesn't respond, just walks beside my stuttering steps. Purposefully, he takes two strides, then wait, sneering, as I struggle to catch up. (at least, it seems this way).

We walk along in silence, me deliberately glaring straight ahead, imagining that looks could kill. He walks leisurely, in a long, easy gait, his hands deep in his pockets.

Then he turns around suddenly. "What would you do if I killed myself?" he inquires, almost gently.

I know better of him. "I wouldn't bat a lash," I tell him angrily. _Leave me alone, leave me alone_.

"Oh? Really." He whips out a kunai and forces its point dangerously close to his heart.

Suddenly my mind is corroded with pictures of him dying, honestly dying. My heart stops for several seconds - I can't speak. I stare at him, stunned beyond comprension.

My scream won't escape my throat.

And then the kunai penetrates his chest, penetrates his entire body, and I am standing in the middle of white smoke.

I look wide-eyed at the tufts of smog enveloping me, and all I can think is, _why?_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Your disastrously opinionated mind  
_Your entire self, I **cannot stand**_

The way you walk  
The way you talk

_The way you think you're right_

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

"I - I want to place a restraining order on Sasuke Uchiha!" I blurt out. I stand in front of the first policeman I saw, my hands twisted tightly.

Unexpectedly the man's eyes light up. "Sasuke? That boy? He's my - "

"Hi, Uncle."

The voice is almost happy. I whirl around. He's sitting lazily on a park bench where there was nothing a moment before. He is the real Sasuke. I am sure of this, the way his smile is all-knowing, something that cannot be imitated.

"Hello there, dear nephew," my man chuckles. On closer inspection, his eyes are the exact same hue as Sasuke's.

I grit my teeth; _Damn these Uchihas_.

I'd forgotten they _were_ the police force.

The policeman leads me by my elbow to Sasuke. "Now, I'm sure you two kids can reach a compromise," he says, his voice low and convincing. I wonder offhandedly if Sasuke's voice would be that way someday. "Y-all are just children," he continues, smiling. "Don't blow this out of - "

"No!" I look at him pleadingly. "This is important. It would - it would mean a lot to me if you placed a r-restraining order on him - just for a week or so - " _Until I can get my wits back_, I add silently, _and until Sasuke stops this._

"Just to try it out," I finish anti-climatically.

My gaze darts to Sasuke. He's not looking at me, he's watching his uncle's face with hawk-like projection. Suddenly his posture isn't so leisure anymore. He reminds of a predator, surveying the air watchfully.

"Of course, a restraining order can be placed," the police agrees almost carelessly.

Sasuke's cheek stiffens.

"Okay, then," I say, backing up. "Th-thank you. I'll - be going now."

I laugh to myself inwardly, the relief making me giddy. I hadn't realized how nervous Sasuke made me. Now that it was over, I was freed from anxiety.

_Take that, Uchiha._

"Wait." His calm, undeterred voice rings in my ear. I am so close to getting away, but I have no choice but glance back.

He's looking at me as he speak to his uncle.

"She never said anything about restraining distance," he says casually, his arrogance naturally seeping into his voice. "And therefore, it is up to the police to determine what distance her best interest is."

"W-what?!" The screech isn't voice aloud - it's in my mind, and I am speechless.

"Rule number 371 of Handbook Number Two," continues Sasuke as if I were invisible. "Go on, Uncle. Choose."

"_No! Wait!"_This time I successfully make a sound, but it's more of a whimper, and they can't hear me. I run instead - half dragging my mind that screams, _I don't want to be near him! I don't want to be close to him! Stay away!_

"Hm." The policeman is placid. He and Sasuke share looks.

"How about," he says with mock thoughtfulness, ".001 inches?"

Behind him, so far I feel isolated, I let loose a frustrated cry. _Changeitchangeitchangeit._

"So...it's done," the man stipulates, grinning. "I'll put it in the record book." Almost lazily, in every Uchiha's manner, he lopes off.

I _glare _at Sasuke. I can't take this any longer. I can't stand his smirk. I spin around, furious, and flee.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Every word from your mouth is like **poison** to my skin  
Why do I feel so you may ask?

_You are almost the very **opposite** of how I feel  
Your thoughts **so far** from mine_

~Ashelin

* * *

**I know it was sort of confusing (the clone part.)**

**The reason he did that was so he could learn how Hinata reacted if he honestly died. All his motives will become clearer later.**

**Until then, I'll see you later. Send me a review!**


	4. Ineffable

**I am amazing; I amaze myself. 9 months to write _this_? And they accuse me of minimality?! A jest, surely. (Okay, H.H., cease in talking like the pope).**

**Dear readers, you are the reason I updated, and I am...(sorry? abashed? shameful? doesn't matter results are the same)-**

**- A nod to She-x and tiny(dot)coco(dot)chan (sorry I butchered your name, the dots wouldn't show!), heehee, for reminding me to update. an elephant never forgets! (I have no idea why I just wrote that, it doesn't mean anything.)**

**

* * *

**

**First Loss  
**_heavenlyhuntress_

**Title:**  
Ineffable

* * *

I follow my footprints home - the ones I had made when I had rushed from my house this morning. The pattern in the prints seem to have a deeper meaning - the left skid mark could mean happiness, trailing off of those lines that my sandals had scratched...

I laugh, the sound eerie in the waning forest. It's not as if I'm frightened, I think instinctively, but then again, I draw my arms closer to my body all the same. I laughed because I was over-inspecting signs of the future.

Dragging my foot across the footprints, I erase them. My prints don't have a place, here, in this wilderness, where Sasuke feigned to kill himself.

I shake it off, or I pretend to. But his eyes, when his clone had evaporated, all but sink themselves into my mind.

I turn in the middle of erasing the footprints and sprint back home.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

The sun waxes the fastest around six-thirty and seven. At six-thirty, all you can see is the echo of the sun refracting among the top-most branches of the trees. There's no vision of the great sun himself; he's in hiding, playing a well-kept game of hide-and-seek, peekaboo, find-the-missing-piece.

It's only in ten minutes do you finally see the entity, peeking over the farthest-flung blade of grass over by the horizon. He rests, straddling the earth between footsteps of night and day, before racing with the moon to rise. The sun wins nearly all of the time, climbing with the grace of the most seasoned sailors, as if on a mast, where the sky is the top-most sail.

And then he rises, and you can't think of how you imagine the night, when the sun is impossibly there, filling every corner of the world.

I smile.

And then I remember what ensued the day before, and immediately thoughts of _him_ invade my mind.

_Damn_ memory.

I trudge across the hall into the kitchen. From this vantage point I can see Hiashi outside, practicing already. He's chopping a treetrunk into bits with his palms.

I finish the daily portion of bread and meander out into the porch, where sunlight spills onto the well-worn bonds of wood.

No training until noon, I think, rather melancholically, and sit with my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. I'll make myself scarce in five minutes, because Hiashi is going to come here, as he does regularly every day, to check if I'm gone.

Something red catches my eye. A picture sticks out just underneath the grass rug underneath my feet. I stoop down, my fingers momentarily shaking. It's Sasuke. He left this.

He's safe there, nestled in the photo of Team 7.

Naruto, on the right, in the belief that Sasuke, his teammate, is a taciturn ninja who is both brave and adept in fighting.

Sakura, next to Sasuke, who believes with every fibre of her being that being a kunoichi is her world and that Sasuke is her sun.

Kakashi, behind him, who has in possesion the same powers as Sasuke does, and understands, ultimately, how to train him in its arts.

Of course, in their eyes, Sasuke comes clean. It isn't to say, however, that he is not above taking the headband of another team's member, and continually rallying on said member of another team. Oh, no. In their eyes, Sasuke is perfect.

Maybe a little quiet, and a bit too much the strong and the silent, but perfect all the same. In their eyes, Sasuke can do no wrong.

I push the picture back where it had remained unhidden for who-knew-how-long it had been there.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Somehow, during the day, the image returns unbidden to me, during lunch, during training, as I return back home. His picture stays with me. I can't erase his eyes as I toss and turn in the bed.

The next morning I wake up and rush to the porch. The picture is gone.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

Somewhere in my mind it clicks that the third time is the charm. Today is the third day he hasn't talked to me, seen me. I inch through breakfast and training and as I'm there, alone, walking out of the grounds my shoulder bumps, and it's like that first time I bumped into him in the crowd. I look and I already know.

Somehow, somewhere.

I guess third time's the charm for him, too.

He smies at me beneath that cold exterior; it's not an illusion.

The half-smile that runs from the center of his mouth to his left cheek is too haughty to be defined as anything other than a smirk. Of course he knows, I think, with a touch of desperation. He _must_ know of my reactions; the instantaneous contraction of my jaw muscles; the way my mouth slackens and my tongue traces the front of my teeth - a sure indication that I am lost in thought; my eyes, never leaving his; my grip, suddenly weak; my cheeks, my neck, my knees that will collapse -

It seems as though he knows of my shortcomings, and smiles all the same - the half-smile that gradually grows to both sides of his mouth.

I get that all in an instance.

My front teeth sink into my bottom lip. Arrogant, arrogant. He doesn't need to guess at my minute reflexes; they are there all the same, right on cue as if he's staging a play. As Kurenai says when she becomes furious, a lesser ninja would scream in frustration. It feels as if I am very nearing that point...

The weapons in my grip clatter onto the ground but I don't bend to pick them up. Doing that will break the look between us, the glare ensuing from my eyes, the lackadaisical air of his.

All of a sudden, my gaze sharpens. The thought, the idea, that comes to mind is too impossible, yet _ingenious_ all the same - just as Kurenai had once otherwise said, a soft and smart answer turns away all adversity.

I begin to realize the implications of those words.

And it is then that I smile. Right at him; if he had seen the microexpressions that had flitted across my face earlier, he will not miss this. I had never smiled like this in my life before.

It is a chilling smile, one devoid of all emotion except for the cold hard challenge in my eyes. The smile reaches the apples of my cheeks; I begin to reveal my teeth in a grin. Feral, and totally cool, and badass.

I push back all inhibitions, all precautions Hiashi had methodically strucutred around my brain, and I smile, give it my all in that smile, and slowly walk away, back turning, traces of that smile left on my face and my set shoulders and the pounding of my feet. It was all there, I think dazedly. It had been in me that whole time. Gosh, I must be an unbalanced individual. I think, if quiet, unassuming Hinata Hyuuga had _that_ stored inside of her, then she had been a monster.

The weapons, I don't think, matter anymore, if I am granted this one _modicum_ of dignity and victory.

I don't want to go home today. I want to go and have a blast, celebrate for all it's worth - this feeling of happiness, satiety, of - _aarrghhh._

"Hello," he says, swinging into step next to me.

"Must you follow me everywhere?" I growl back.

"Your stutter is gone," he notes.

"It tends to, when around people who have brain capacity far lower than average." I laugh at myself inside. Who knew.

He doesn't respond; at least, his expressions fails to falter. "That's nice."

"It's not," I say. And then, abruptly; "W-why are you following me?" And I don't want a short, biting-off answer, I wish. I want the reason _why_ you have been hounding me these last weeks.

"I guess I just...fell into you," he answers.

The reply knocks my breath away before I can attempt to respond. So I just say nothing, stay silent, my two hands nervously rubbing against each other.

"You can't fall into people," is my reply after my lungs clear. "People won't let you fall into their lives."

He turns to look at me. I look away.

"_You_ did," he says, pointedly.

"By force," I mutter.

"It doesn't matter," he attempts to steer the conversation.

"It does," I argue.

He stops completely; my feet imitate his before I can control them. And then they're stuck, and I can't move them myself.

"Give me back my headband," I say.

He doesn't move, or appear to. With a flick of his wrist the headband lands in my hands. Stunned, I catch them; I hadn't caught the movement. My feet suddenly move again, and I stagger backwards. Away from him. To freedom.

"Now give it to me."

I blink. "Give what?" The headband is now tight across my fingers. I won't be letting go anytime soon. Be it an arm-wrestling match, be it persuasion. I won't let go.

"Give you," he whispers.

He catches me before I can fall, and then he bends down and his lips lightly brush my temple.

* * *

**Not a too-romantic ending, I hope, but an ending all the same to this short story that I somehow managed to drag out. **

**I hope this chapter makes up for the wait; it certainly wrote itself. Parts of it simply flowed. It elated me :)**

**bookishly yours,  
h.h.**

**PS. There...might be an epilogue?**


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